Convention
by gyuumajo
Summary: CSI,CSI:Miami crossover fic challenge answer to kuroi neko-kun. Conventions are meant to be a get-together in its own way, right? (rated PG13 for mild slash reference)


"…I got the blue one…" he answered the Hispanic man beside him. The well-built man had slunk up to him and asked for his ticket stub color. He had never gotten to know why the organizers wanted to group them up according to stub colors that were randomly selected but he wasn't in a position to argue or object. And besides, any sort of confrontation would probably take days to clear up and he wasn't keen on staying longer than he had to. But instead of the lecture theater he thought they were going to spend the day in, he was led by the arm out of the lobby.

_'This had to be the best convention in a very long time,'_ he mused. Held in charming Miami for the first time, even the atmosphere had been replaced with a more upbeat mood. Most of the other participants gave odd glances as they stepped out of the stuffy building but no one complained about the change of tradition. A sharp screech due to microphone feedback turned heads as a soft southern-accented voice called for their attention.

"Everyone, could I have some silence please?? I'm sure you're all wondering why are you doing out in the heat when you should be inside sitting on cushioned chairs and taking notes," an uncharacteristic murmur spread through the crowd of CSIs from all over the country. She gave a well-timed pause as the murmur died down slightly before continuing. "After a year of negotiating with the higher-ups, we had finally gotten to change the rules of this convention. After another year of scheduling and researching, we had sought out the speakers for this convention and gotten their permission to restructure their planned lessons into a more interesting way of learning. Ladies and gentlemen, lose those ties and jackets. We're on a treasure hunt!"

&&&

"All those holding the blue stubs, please follow me," one of the organizer staff held up his hands to catch their eye. Most of the participants were not over the latest turn of events and wasted no time in expressing their discontent.

"This is a big waste of my time." A prudish man in his late-thirties huffed as he rolled up his sleeve. "Such amateurish acts should never be allowed."

"Maybe you shouldn't be in this field if you don't want to get down to your hands and knees to search for clues," their guide glowered. Turning to the rest of the small group, he called out loudly. "Anyone else who feels the same as he does is welcomed to leave. We won't hold anyone against their will."

Shocked by the apparent lack of tact, the group took in his words silently. A ghost of a grin crept onto his face. "Now that we've laid down some ground rules, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tim Speedle—Speed for short. And today, you would all be off exploring the city on your own without your field kits. All you have in your arsenal are your hands and wits. We will meet back at your final destination by 8 tonight. Exactly five hours from now. Along the way, you would need to face obstacles, solve puzzles and find clues to help you reach the end line but if you are really stuck and wish to discontinue, you could meet back here. We will have staffs to attend to you." He searched the faces of his charges, looking for queries, and unexpectedly spotted a familiar face. Keeping his surprise to himself, he signaled for their leave.

All around them, other groups were also dispersing in all directions. He felt someone grab his shoulders as he tried to squeeze his way out of the crowd. He tensed as he turned around, almost expecting to see some mugger but it turned out to be his guide for the day. Dressed in a crumpled shirt that had seen much better days and a 5 o'clock shadow that was nearing midnight, his unkempt appearance unbefitting for such a "specialized" job class.

"Hey," he gave a lopsided grin before offering his hand for a proper handshake. "You're Brown right? Warrick Brown?"

"Yeah… that's me alright. You have a good memory, Speed," the taller man answered, taking up the offered hand. It had been a while since they had met, and during the LV CSI's short stay, the Miami hosts had made their stay as comfortable as they could. The impression of Speedle being a sloppy worker still hung in the air but he should know better than to doubt the guy's professionalism.

"Heh, that's in the job description isn't it? In fine print no less,"

Despite himself, Warrick gave a chuckle. "Now _that's_ the Speedle I remember,"

"Oh? Is that how I am remembered??" he gave the taller man a pat on the back. "I hafta let you go do what you do best now. Catch up with you after all this?"

"It's a deal,"

&&&

Time passed faster when one was preoccupied, like solving a tough nut problem with minimal clue like this treasure hunt he was in. He had to pit his skills, and not forgetting brain cells, against other equally matched 'opponents'. So far, he had gotten past the easy part of the test and no doubt, there would be more. Letting the clues (hearsay from street people mostly) lead him, he entered a dingy pub tucked in a tight corner, facing away from the streets. What little patrons this ancient bar held all turned towards him, irritation carved on their head in bright neon colors. For a moment, he pondered if leaving the pub might be a good idea after all but thought better of it. Steeling himself, he strode up to the bartender and dropped into an empty seat at the end of the counter. The level of intensity shot up a notch as he cleared his throat. Even discretely, his voice rang hollowly across the crawlspace known as a pub. A few mugs hit the rotting tables angrily but the mob remained relatively well mannered.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion. I'm actually looking for someone named Pike,"

"We ain't got no one named Pike around 'ere. And I suggest you get your black ass outta 'ere right now before things get real ugly," the bartender shot him a dirty look before ditching his washcloth. As he felt the rest of the mob started closing in on him, the doors were thrown open timely. Everyone stopped what they were doing abruptly, as if someone pressed the pause button on them.

"Pike, you outta stop this discrimination shit every time a customer with a different skin color walk in. That's one of the reasons why you always lose potential cash cows," the teasing voice chided. The bartender also known as Pike gave a short grunt before returning to his post behind the counter, pouring a shot of Jim Beam for both of them.

"My hero," Warrick said sheepishly as his guide settled into the seat next to him.

"Always a pleasure to help a damsel in distress," Speedle managed a half-bow as best as he could while remaining seated. "What are you doing in here anyways? Don't you have a hunt to complete??"

"Nah, I figured I could sneak a break or two before going off," Warrick answered confidently.

"And you picked this hellhole for a pit stop? God, you have bad taste,"

"…"

As the other man lapse into a sudden state of silence, Speed quickly dropped his gaze to his glass. "…Did I say something that I shouldn't?"

"Don't worry about it. Just remembered something that's all," He could almost feel the curiosity oozing out of Speedle's pores and decided to torment the younger man a little more by retreating into his shell for a little while. Another few seconds of silence ensued before he continued. "Someone once told me the same thing. Said that I had bad taste. Had ta show her how bad my taste is," he gave a wink as Speedle's eyes lit up cheekily. "Maybe you would like to see how bad my taste is too?"

Speedle laughed heartily. Without any hint of agreement or rejection, he just finished his drink and beckoned for Warrick to follow him.

&&&

"I can't believe you went MIA in the middle of the convention," Sara laughed a drain as they sat in the break room nestling Greg's special brew. "I mean, we had the highest probability of winning that damn thing and you disappeared until well past the due time."

"Sara's right on this one. Where were you??" Nick chipped in.

"Oh, I've been around, exploring what Miami had to offer," Mischief was clearly heard in Warrick's tone even as he kept his face as straight as a ruler.

End.

* * *

Disclaimers: I have nothing. I am nothing.

A/N time! This is written for a fic challenge challenged by Kuroi Neko-kun, whom I counter-challenged and has completed her challenge fic in record time! Kudos!! (Sorry for not writing as fast as I should. I thought I could get back home to do this but I can't quite find enough time to sit down and finish it... Haha…) And why am I the only one reviewing it? Get back to her too!!

Challenge conditions: Write an unlikely CSI m/m slash with unconventional pairings starting with [I got the blue one].

Woah, look at the sheer amount of words in it. It's more than what I usually write. Haha… sorry if this turns out a little confusing at the front. I can't give the game away so soon, now can I?

Hope u enjoyed it and remember to press the small lil button below to review

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